


No Easy Days

by Belle_Haliday



Category: Pride (2014)
Genre: Angst, M/M, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2858573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle_Haliday/pseuds/Belle_Haliday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Jethin fic. </p>
<p>A short look a Gethin reflecting on life with Jonathan’s illness. Because there are no easy days and it’s never off his mind. But no matter how hard their days are - no matter how many times they bicker about smoking or eating well or how many times the shop get vandalised - loving Jonathan Blake is the easiest thing in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Easy Days

**Author's Note:**

> I may be completely off the mark with HIV symptoms. From my (admittedly feeble) at research, these seemed appropriate, but I’m sorry if I’ve got anything wrong.

It’s never easy. 

Some days are bad. When Jonathan coughs up everything he eats and he’s sweaty and tired and irritable and Gethin can’t do anything. So he sits on the edge of their bed and worries about Jonathan being too warm or too cold or too tired or too hungry or if he should call an ambulance. And instead of the night ending with some ‘I Love You’ movie-moment, it ends with Jonathan curled up in the bathroom - mumbling “Fuck off Geth” between bouts of nausea and Gethin bringing him tea that goes cold and hiding in the empty shop so his boyfriend won’t see his tears. 

(He always knows anyway. Which just makes Gethin feel worse).

There are good days too. When he talks Jonathan into a proper breakfast and they don’t have anywhere to be so they curl up in the living room and Jonathan talks about his religion (The Smiths and Queen and the limitless genius that is Billy Bragg) and Gethin smiles even if he doesn’t have a clue what his ridiculous boyfriend is talking about. And then Jonathan puts on records and drags him to his feet and they end up just holding each other (Jonathan may be a god on the dance floor, but Gethin has about twelve left feet and no sense of rhythm) and Gethin forgets. Just for a moment.

But even on the best days, it’s never easy. Not even for a moment. 

There are no easy days.

-

He doesn’t know why he thought there would be.

-

“You have to eat. Properly, I mean”.

“I am eating”.

“Properly”.

“If I eat the damn apple will you stop worrying for a minute?”

“Probably not”.

“You’re lucky I love you Geth”.

-

He can’t stop worrying. Not for a moment. Because worrying about Jonathan is a fulltime job that comes with overtime but no vacation. And because Jonathan can’t, won’t, and doesn’t, he has to worry about everything twice as often and about five times as much. He worries about every doctor’s appointment and every cigarette and every single night Jonathan goes out in a dress. 

And he worries about keeping food in the fridge. And paying the bills. And maintaining the bookshop. 

And sometimes he even has time to worry about himself. 

But only on the good days. And only for a moment.

-

Some nights Jonathan gets hot sweats while he sleeps and Gethin slips out of the covers before he becomes too hot and sticky and runs a cool bath and when Jonathan wakes up (he always wakes up), he helps him into the water and brushes his sweat drenched hair from his forehead.

And while Jonathan cools in the tub, Gethin changes the sheets and gets out clean pyjamas and wishes he didn’t have work the next day.

(Because Jonathan never sleeps well after hot sweats and it’s easier for him just to stay awake. But the bookshop needs to be open - he can’t afford the day off - and he really don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of shelving. Again).

(But Jonathan feels better with company, and with someone to look after him, so he stays awake and prays for coffee in the morning).

-

Jonathan surprises him with coffee and French toast and they exchange sweet sugary kisses until Gethin has to open the shop.

-

“Let’s go away this year”.

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Spain. Australia. The Arctic Circle. We should go soon. Before the entire fucking country goes mad over bloody Christmas and I have to hear Jingle Bells nine hundred times a day”.

“What if I promise not to play any carols in the shop?”

“What if I just want an excuse to get away with my gorgeous boyfriend?”

“Then maybe you’re in luck”.

-

He honestly does want to get away. And he tries - really tries - to make it work. But the budget’s stretched thin as it is and then someone trows a brick through the shop window and he has to choose between replacing the glass and paying the electricity bill and suddenly they can’t afford a night in the hotel down the road let alone in Spain. And he can’t let Jonathan know. Can’t let him worry. 

And then Jonathan takes a bad turn and - as much as he tries not to think it - he feels like this is it. This is the one that kills them. (Both of them).

And he refuses to leave Jonathan’s side because he doesn’t know how long they have left until they have to take him to hospital, until they say he’s not family and he can’t visit, until -

And when Jonathan falls asleep he cries and he sobs and it’s wretched and broken and he hates himself for it.

His boyfriend, his partner, his fucking soul mate, could drop dead literally any moment. What do his problems matter? Or the shop or the bills or fucking gay lib?

What does anything matter?

-

Every bad turn feels like the final one. And every time Jonathan pulls through Gethin hates himself for thinking the worst. 

-

“You worry too much”.

“It’s my job”.

“No it isn’t”.

-

He wakes one night alone, his hands drifting over Jonathan’s empty place before his eyes open. And though the sheets aren’t drenched, they’re damp, and he guesses Jonathan’s in the bathroom. 

But the bathroom is dark - (the whole apartment is dark because it’s the middle of the night and he still hasn’t paid the bill and they’ve been using candles which Jonathan thinks is romantic and which he hates because he can’t read properly with them) - and he follows a trail of damp clothes to the living room, where Jonathan has curled up on the couch in just his pants, an old comforter thrown across one leg and one hip. His hair is drenched and he’s dozing, though fitfully.

And Gethin sits on the ground by his head - just wanting to be close. Just in case he’s needed.

-

He wakes the next morning with a sore neck and Jonathan’s fingers in his hair. 

“Why are you sitting on the floor?”

“In case you needed me”.

“I love you, but I the whole reason I slept on our ridiculously lumpy sofa instead of our wonderfully comfortable bed was so that you could have a good night’s sleep you idiot”.

“Bed was too cold without you”.

“It would have been too warm with me”.

“I don’t care”.

He doesn’t look at Jonathan (his neck protests sharply at the thought) but the feel of his boyfriend’s fingers in his hair is heaven and he almost dozen off again then and there, discomfort be damned. 

“I’m going to take a shower”

“Wait”.

“I should have had one last night. I smell”. 

“Wait”.

He doesn’t want Jonathan to move. He doesn’t want anything in the entire universe to move. Because this stupid uncomfortable morning is a stupid perfect moment that he can’t stand to break. Because last night they both made the choice to do something nice for the other, something that made the uncomfortable, and irritable, and maybe that’s not happily ever after or true love or whatever fairy tale bullshit he’s selling downstairs, but it feels like it should be, and suddenly Gethin doesn’t want to be anywhere other than right here for the rest of time, and -

“What if I don’t open the shop today?”

“Of course you’ll open the shop today”.

“I mean it”.

“No you don’t. What about the bills?”

“I can live by candlelight one more day if it means we can have the day off. Together. We’ll get take out for lunch - the horrible greasy kind that you love - and we can go through your music collection and -”

“And you can read me the collected poems of T. S. Fucking Eliot”.

“If you like”.

“Well it’s not exactly Spain, but it sounds like heaven”.

“Good”.

“Are you sure?”

“Shut up Jonathan”.

-

By 11am, Jonathan is hunched over the toilet vomiting, while Gethin runs a comforting hand down his spine. And he gets Jonathan water to rinse his mouth out and pulls out his toothbrush and runs a bath and when Jonathan looks up after ten minutes to tell him he’s not getting out of takeout he presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s sweat drenched cheek and promise he can get whatever he want.

And at lunch - which they eat cross legged in bed because Gethin’s going to change the sheets any way and it’s comfortable and what else is this day for? - Gethin steals chips from Jonathan’s plate because he knows it make him laugh. 

And when Jonathan crashes completely at 4 o’clock, with no energy to do more than collapse into bed - leaving Gethin to unbutton his shirt and pull off his shoes and tuck him in - Gethin settles by his side without comment.

Because even their good days are short and never easy. But he’ll treasure every one.

Because they don’t have easy days.

But loving Jonathan Blake is the easiest thing in the world. And Gethin is determined to do it until it kills him.


End file.
